


Wildlife and Outlaws

by giadrosich



Category: Red Dead Redemption
Genre: Action/Adventure, Eventual Romance, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-01 05:35:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16758955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/giadrosich/pseuds/giadrosich
Summary: Arthur meets the wildlife photographer Albert Mason while travelling around. He is taken in by the man's passion for his work, and wants to get to know him a bit better and even learn some new tricks while helping the man out. But with Arthur trying to keep his head down from the law, it may get in the way of everything he starts to hold important.





	1. Portrait of a Man

**Author's Note:**

> I am firmly in the camp of Arthur and Albert, and due to not being many works with them, wanted to contribute. Spoilers for Albert's stranger mission, and mild spoilers for other events up to chapter 2 of the game. This is going to be a seperate adventure mainly encompassing these two.

Arthur’s first encounter with Albert wasn’t exactly a usual one. People in this part of the country were...well, annoying, rude and often downright nasty. But Albert was something different. Friendly from the start, the wildlife photographer was a man that made Arthur intrigued and interested in what he had to say.

“Arthur Morgan,” Arthur said with a smile, giving his own name back to Albert’s introduction.

“Pleasure,” the other man said smartly, moving back to his camera setup. “I’m trying to find and capture images of our great predators before our greatest predators kill them all and stick them on some clubhouse wall.”

“Good luck with that,” Arthur chuckled.

“Yes, not the easiest, but, I do love a challenge,” Albert shrugged, giving Arthur a long look before continuing. “The trick is to leave a heap load of meat, relax and hope they don’t mistake me for lunch.”

Arthur laughed, and Albert smiled. “Glad to know that I can at least have one person laugh at my jokes. The people around here are just positively dull. You are one of the first to actually come up and talk to me without waving a gun about and yelling to get off your land. Now, hold still while I take a photo, if you will stand as you are, just right there.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow. “I thought you did wildlife, not people.”

“I found you in the wild, didn’t I? Let’s not quibble semantics,” Albert winked.

Arthur tried to stand up straight, caught off guard slightly by this man and his way of speech. It was refreshing in a way. He felt his smile relax and grow into a more serious expression, and Albert looked up from his camera with a shake of his head.

“No, no, I want a good smile! Too many people have their photo taken with the most sullen expression, as though they had been sucking on lemons for the past ten years! I like a man who can express himself.”

Arthur cleared his throat, a little bit out of his element, but went back into a gentle smile. He waited a moment, and then Albert gave a big thumbs up as he took the picture.

“Excellent! This should--” his expression changed suddenly into a cry of surprise, and Arthur looked around just in time to see a coyote snatch Albert’s bag.

“That thing is robbing me!” Albert yelled out.

“Don’t worry, I got it!” Arthur said, running after the coyote. “And it’s a coyote!” _Wildlife photographer_ indeed, Arthur huffed to himself as he chased after it. Perhaps Albert should stick to reading books about the animals rather than going out to take pictures for the books.

The coyote led him on a merry chase, Arthur tripping once or twice on a few twigs that seemed to just reach up and grab him. Finally, though, the coyote grew tired of the bag, letting it drop. Arthur scrambled for it, picking it up with a relieved sigh. He gave a short whistle, his black shire horse he had named Bruce trotting up to him with a snort.

“That’s my boy,” he mumbled to the creature, patting the neck firmly before pulling himself up to head back to where Albert had been.

The trot back to the clearing was simple, Arthur having a fairly good sense of direction. He grinned as he approached Albert, who turned towards him as he called out.

“Well, well, I got your bag!” He tossed it to the man who examined it carefully.

“He nearly bit clean through the handle, but, nothing a bit of a leather won’t fix,” Albert said, putting it on the ground and going back to his camera.

“A bag full of meat tends to bring out the worst in the population who are a mite hungry.” Arthur warned, dismounting from Bruce.

“You are a gentleman,” Albert nodded with a small sigh. “The bag also had a lot of my supplies, you have saved me days and money. I really can’t thank you enough...I’m…” he seemed flustered as Arthur merely blinked at him, watching the man try to get the words out. “I’m...thank you.” He ended suddenly.

“Don’t worry about it,” Arthur said, waving the thanks away. As Albert adjusted his camera, he cleared his throat. “Do you think...you should leave the wildlife photography to the fellers who know a little something about wildlife?”

Albert shook his head. “If every great man thought like that, there wouldn’t be any great men. A little ignorance can go a long way...at least that’s what I tell myself.”

“Or it can get you killed,” Arthur warned. “But...I do wish you luck with all of…” here he gestured to the camera equipment and the clearing in general. “...this.”

Albert gave a nod, leaning back down over the camera, and Arthur started to walk away, leading Bruce, but paused. It was just...there was something about the man that was...well, interesting.

“I don’t suppose you know much folks in the area?” Arthur asked, and Albert turned to look at him.

The man gave a small shrug, leaning on his camera. “Not...really, no. I’ve made some interesting acquaintances, but really in all actuality I’m quite alone in my quest for my photographs. I plan to have a showing in Saint Denis when I gather a large enough collection. I need to drum up a bit of interest in it, though.”

“Well,” Arthur said, hooking his thumbs into the pockets of his worn out blue jeans and shifting his weight to one side. “If you want, I’d be happy to go over some of your work with you. I’m sort of an amature photographer myself, I can show you some of the photos I’ve taken.”

Albert’s face brightened at Arthur’s words, and there was a sudden strong feeling of happiness in Arthur’s chest, knowing that he had something that might actually interest the man standing in front of him. He wasn’t at all what Arthur had expected to meet out in the plains of the Heartlands, but there was an immediate connection. The way he talked, the way he held himself, his passion about wildlife even though the man was quite hopeless out here on his own...it made Arthur want to help him out.

“My good man, I would love to see what you have created! I bet you get some stunning shots out in the open plains and deep in the forests as you…” here Albert paused, looking at Arthur curiously. “What...do you do exactly?”

Arthur chuckled, a rumble in his chest. “You might call me just a wanderin’ man, Mr. Mason. I ain’t got a day job nor a night one. I go where the land takes me.” He jerked a thumb at Bruce next to him, the camping equipment plainly seen strapped onto the sturdy beast.

“Where you headed next then? I can help you out with your picture takin’ and maybe you can teach me a few things here and there about takin’ better pictures.”

Albert nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, yes that would be most agreeable. A win-win as they might say. You protect me from the wildlife and I’ll show you how to take photographs of the vicious creatures. I plan to go after wolves next, so it would be perfect timing on your part!”

“Wolves, huh,” Arthur mused, grabbing Bruce’s reins as Albert started to pack up. “That should be exciting.” He wasn’t really sure what he was doing. Dutch back at camp would probably have his neck for getting close to anyone around here, but he needed a break from the stress of Dutch always going on about how they _needed money_. And how he _had a plan_ and to just _have faith_ in what Dutch was doing.

Yes. He was very interested in what Albert had in store.


	2. Wolves in the Dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glad to see some positive reception of this pairing, thank you!

“Mr. Morgan, _watch out_!”

Arthur heard the warning, but as he swung his gun to the side, he felt teeth clamp down on his exposed forearm. Sharp pain radiated upwards and there was a moment of clouded judgement as he tried to pull back, causing the wolf to clamp down harder. With a grunt, he lifted his shotgun, placing it at the chest of the wolf and pulling the trigger.

The shot was loud in his ears, but he felt the pressure release as the wolf let go, gurgling and dropping to the ground with a thud. Arthur fell to his knees, clutching at the bite on his arm and gritting his teeth against the pain of it.

“Arthur!” He heard Albert yell out and there were sudden hands on his shoulder.

“It’s okay, I’m fine,” Arthur grunted out, attempting to stand up, pursing his lips to let out a sharp whistle for Bruce, who had run off to get out of the way of danger. 

“You have a nasty bite, that really isn’t _fine_ , sir,” Albert fussed, helping Arthur stand.

“I’ve had a hell of a lot worse, just give me a moment, I’ve got some supplies in my saddlebags,” Arthur said, hearing the heavy hooves of Bruce approach from behind him. He turned, face to face with the large horse, the animal lowering it’s head to snort, nuzzling his chest momentarily.

“Yer a good boy,” Arthur said, heading for the saddlebags. Albert was right behind him, sputtering at the whole thing, flitting to either side of him in a vain effort to be useful.

“I am...so very sorry, Mr. Morgan, I truly am. Can you find it in yourself to forgive me? Perhaps I shouldn’t have asked for your help, but…”

“Did you get a good shot?” Arthur interrupted him, pulling open one of the bags and tugging out a couple of tonics he had and some bandages. He opened up his water canteen and splashed some of it over the wound to wash it out.

Albert stopped, and Arthur turned to see the man wide eyed, staring at him. “Y-yes, I did, actually, but--”

“Then there ain’t nothing to worry about. It’s just a bite, I ain’t gonna die over it. And you got the picture, which is good, right? All in all, it was a good thing.” Arthur shook his head at Albert attempting to apologize more, and he held out the bandage to the other man. “You mind helping me with this?”

Albert reached out with a quick motion to the bandage. “Oh! Of course, hold still now.”

Arthur stood as Albert wrapped the bandage around his forearm, instructing him on how to make it snug but not too tight. The bite in all actuality wasn’t too bad, but he knew without making sure it was cleaned out and seen to right away, it could get infected. He’d seen men lose arms and legs because they hadn’t taken care of a wound properly.

The wound bandaged, Albert stepped back and went to his camera equipment, stepping around some of the dead wolves that Arthur had shot. “It’s a shame, really. I got a fantastic shot, but the reality of the whole thing is...heartbreaking.”

Arthur tugged his sleeve down over the bandage, heading over to one of the wolves. He leaned down, reaching out to pat the fur. “Yeah...it’s a shame, really. But we won’t put it to waste, got some good pelts here, can sell them in Valentine. I also know a trapper, he wanders around these parts.”

“What about the meat?” Albert asked, packing up his equipment.

Arthur shook his head. “Nah, wolves eat rotten meat. I’ve heard of some folks eating them, but it’s a risk I’d rather not take. They smell *real* bad when you open ‘em up too. I’ve got some grilled fish and some smoked meat we can eat for dinner later if you’re hungry though.”

“That would be excellent, yes,” Albert nodded, giving Arthur a smile.

“I’ll skin these fellows up, then. It’s getting later on, too, we should probably find a place to make camp. Away from the dead wolves, though, that’s gonna attract some other predators that I don’t really want to deal with and I think you aren’t keen on meeting quite yet.” Arthur chuckled.

The next few hours were uneventful as he got down to the messy business of skinning three wolves. Arthur’s clothes were in dire need of washing by the end of it. He glanced up after placing the pelts onto Bruce, tying them down safely.

“We ain’t too far from Dakota River, I need a change of clothes and a wash. We can make camp there, there’s a good little outcropping I know of that’s somewhat away from the road.”

“Sounds fine to me,” Albert nodded, mounting his own horse.

Atop both of their respective horses, Arthur fell into a trot, Albert riding beside him. The silence was comfortable for a few minutes, nodding at passersby every so often. A simple nod or a hey would get a good response mostly, but if folk were in a bad mood, silence would greet him back. It didn’t bother him too much--he had gotten used to it. And frankly, with blood all over the front of him like this, it wasn’t too difficult to see why folks wouldn’t exactly take a liking to him right off.

They finally crested over a small hill, seeing the river below. Arther pointed to an outcropping that overlooked the area, clicking to Bruce to hurry him along. A snort met his spurs and the Shire picked up speed for a moment only to slack back into a comfortable trot. Arthur’s horse was stubborn like himself, but when danger hit, he was a good horse and knew exactly what to do.

“We can set camp here,” Arthur said, carefully dismounting. He patted Bruce’s neck, grabbing the lead and bringing him over to a tree to hitch him alongside Albert’s horse. “If you don’t mind setting up the camp, I’m gonna take a change of clothes and head down to the river.”

Albert nodded. “Oh...yes, set up...camp.”

Arthur paused at the hesitation, squinting at the man. “You... _do_ know how to set up a camp, right?”

“Of...of _course_ I do!” Albert huffed, looking at the items on the ground. “I certainly wouldn’t have gotten this far without _some_ semblance of survival skills.”

Arthur grunted. “Hmm, well, if’n you need any help, just give a holler. I won’t be long.”

With that, Arthur went down the hill to the riverside. He placed his dry clothes up in the crook of a tree to keep mud off of them, sitting down on a rock to tug his boots off, stripping down to his underwear. He wasn’t a shy man, having been in a camp of twenty plus people with an open air tent made you lack the modesty of normal civilization, and he certainly wasn’t ashamed of his form. Muscles and dark skin from the sun, he was normally asked about by ladies from saloons and other places. But, Arthur had never really been interested in all of that fuss.

He plunged his bloody clothes into the river, scrubbing at it with a piece of soap he had grabbed from his saddlebags. He’d have to get more soon at the general store in town. He did try and keep clean, if only to avoid stares and whispers from other people about his appearance. He kept his hair trimmed to a fade cut, and his beard close shaven. He never liked to fully shave though, he felt strange that way.

The water was warm from the heat of the day, but Arthur knew it would cool down quickly with the night hitting, and he scrubbed at his clothes until most of the blood was out. He then scrubbed himself quickly before stepping out and drying off best he could with a small towel. He sighed in some relief as he put on his clean clothes, heading back up to the camp.

As he went towards the campsite, he started to hear what sounded like muttering and cursing.

“Dag-blasted tent why don’t you just _stay up_?”

Arthur grinned as he heard Albert’s voice carry the frustration of someone attempting to set up the small lean to tent. As he got closer, he stood a moment, leaning against a small tree as he watched Albert struggle, arms crossed.

“You need some help with that?” He finally asked, stepping in before Albert hurt himself.

“Agh!” Albert jumped at his voice, putting a hand over his heart. “Mr. Morgan, my goodness, you startled me!”

Arthur let out a small laugh, walking up and pointing to a few spots that he wanted Albert to hold on to while he set up the tent. “I’m sorry, Mr. Mason. But I thought you were a man who knew how to survive out here?” He looked up at Albert with a teasing grin.

Albert looked sheepish then. “Okay, I’ll admit I perhaps don’t know as much about this stuff as I let on. I may have been staying in Strawberry in the welcome hotel for most of my nights.”

“Ahh, that’s alright,” Arthur said, shaking his head and waving his hand at him in a dismissive gesture. “We’ll make a mountain man out of you yet.”

The fire was started quickly and food heated up on the small grill that Arthur had. Albert sat down by the fire, taking a piece of meat that Arthur motioned for him to have. Before Arthur could sit, however, he heard hoofbeats in the distance. He looked up sharply, eyes narrowing at the sight of two horsemen approaching them.

Albert noted the sudden shift in body language for Arthur, and looked up with some concern. “Mr. Morgan?”

“Shh,” Arthur said, putting up a hand. He stood taller, facing the two men as the horses came into the light of the campfire.

“Can I help you?” Arthur called out.

“We’re hoping so,” one of them stated, stepping forward out from the shadow of his horse. With a smooth motion, he lifted the barrel of a shotgun directly at Arthur. “Hoping you can help us by giving us all of your money.”


	3. Planning

Arthur wasn’t a stupid man. Despite feeling safe around Albert, he knew the land out here was wild and rough. He kept a pistol on his hip most of the time. Really the only time he ever took it off was when he was in camp with the rest of his family, knowing there were guards posted. But right now, a pistol hung from a holster strapped to him.

The moment the man started to speak, Arthur knew that he was an O'Driscoll. Then, when the gun started to move up, Arthur immediately grabbed for his pistol, taking a moment to focus. There was...a sense that time slowed down whenever he was in situation like this. Dutch called it his “dead eye”--his ability to focus and fire in rapid succession made him an opponent to be feared when in a shootout.

Without hardly blinking and with no hesitation, Arthur pulled the trigger, the bullet finding the man with the shotgun directly between his eyes. Blood spurted forth, and the shot rang out clear in the night, the horses startling slightly at the sudden noise, and he heard a yell from Albert as well.

Arthur kept his gun up at the man’s partner, who’s jaw had gone slack. Arthur stepped forward slowly, pulling back the hammer on the weapon, his breath slow and even.

“I don’t know about you, son, but I didn’t exactly plan this night to end in the death of two men. Now, we can make it just one man if you wish, but I’m gonna need you to turn tail and get out of here.” Arthur’s voice was low, menacing, direct.

The man was clearly shaken, having seen the encounter go in a different direction. He stepped back once, hand going out for his horse, who snorted, shaking its head with the movement. The man mounted swiftly, and with a swift kick to the side of the horse, sped off into the night.

Arthur stood there a moment longer, looking out into darkness before turning back to Albert and holstering his weapon with a smooth practiced motion. “You alright, Mr. Mason?”

“Y-yes, Mr. Morgan, thank you,” Albert stuttered, hand over his chest as he tried to calm down. “I can’t imagine what might have happened if you hadn’t been here. Twice now you’ve saved me from mortal danger. You are a gentleman.”

Arthur leaned down next to the dead body, fingers digging into pockets and tugging the gun out of the corpse’s hands. He already had a shotgun, but he could sell it with no problem at the next gunsmith. Or use it for parts. But it was usually easier to just sell it.

“Mr. Mason, I ain’t no gentleman, you should know this by now.” Arthur grunted, eyes still keeping a sharp watch for any movement or backup the other may have gone for.

“Well, to me, you are a gentleman, and I do mean that,” Albert said again.

At Albert’s softer tone, Arthur glanced over. The man was looking at him, not with fear as he expected, but...admiration? Pride? Thankfulness? He couldn’t really place it. If he had been a younger man, he may have felt uncomfortable by it. But now, heading towards his 40s faster than he wanted, it caused him to pause. He cleared his throat, turning back to the body that lay at his feet.

“Lemme get rid of this and we can get some sleep. I’ll take first watch,” Arthur stated firmly, grasping the body and dragging it off. He stashed it in a small thicket a good distance away.

Making it back to camp, he dug into his saddlebags for his cigarettes, pulling one out. He offered one to Albert, who shook his head.

“No, thank you, Mr. Morgan, my vice is a good drink, and I’m afraid I have none at the moment.”

Arthur nodded, lighting up a match and taking his time to enjoy the taste of the nicotine. It wasn’t the best habit to have, but right now he needed one. He didn’t have them too often, but every now and then it was nice.

Silence grew between the two men, Arthur not finding it entirely uncomfortable. After that encounter, he was surprised that Albert wasn’t asking more questions. Being a wandering man, however, perhaps the photographer knew the land wasn’t quite tamed yet, and a few things would inevitably happen from time to time.

“What sort of wildlife you got your heart set on next, Mr. Mason?” He finally broke the silence after his cigarette was done.

“Oh, please, call me Albert. Mr. Mason sounds so formal.”

“Call me Arthur then,” he smiled.

Albert smiled back, and a surprising feeling jumped in Arthur’s stomach at the sight.

“Very well, Arthur. And I think we should try horses. They are quite majestic, I think, and would make fantastic subjects.” Albert grew excited as he always did when talking about his profession and what he would take photos of.

“Well, ol’ Bruce here isn’t exactly the king of the horses,” Arthur jerked his thumb at the Shire, who was hitched to a nearby tree, nibbling on some oats.

“Oh, no, not broken horses, I’m talking about the _wild_ ones. The sight of them, running on the plains, free to go where they want--I daresay I’m almost jealous of them.” Albert’s expression grew to a far off look, dreaming about who knows what. Arthur could never really pin down what the man was thinking.

“Well, it’s unlikely you’ll get eaten by a bunch of horses. Unless you somehow screw up _real_ bad.” Arthur laughed.

Albert chuckled as well. “I suppose so. But still, it is difficult to set up my equipment and then just have a herd wander into the perfect position for a shot. You can help me get them going in the right direction. You are a good horseman, from what I have seen.”

“I do know horses,” Arthur agreed. “Alright then, tomorrow we’ll head to a few areas I know that have a herd we can set up around. Shouldn’t be too difficult. And then maybe we can get dinner in town. I like meat as much as the next guy, but I think a bit of variety in food would be a good change of pace.”

“Oh yes! Then, by this time tomorrow we shall be in a saloon and laughing of our adventures with the magnificent creatures!” Albert made a small fist in a determined motion, swinging it upwards to punctuate his sentence.

“Sounds good to me, if our luck holds,” Arthur nodded, smiling. He could stop by camp and talk to Dutch and bring them some of the food and a bit of money he had acquired too. Would be a simple stop and shouldn’t take too long.

 _If_ their luck held.


	4. Dutch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little side scene at Horseshoe Overlook.

“Arthur, my good man can we slow down a little?”

Arthur turned to see Albert huffing after him, camera equipment slung over one shoulder and carrying the heavy tripod in both hands. They were southeast of Valentine, near where Dutch had made camp with the rest of his group. But right now, he was helping Albert set up a spot so he could go off and conduct business without letting anyone know where exactly the camp was.

“Come on, Albert, you’ll never be able to run after a good subject without practice,” he grinned, his tone not serious at all.

“Well, I do think this is far enough into the area to set up. I at least know where I’m at here...at least I think so,” Albert paused, looking around before pointing tentatively in a direction. “Flatneck Station is that way right?”

Arthur walked over and pushed his hand slightly more west. “More like in that direction, but close enough. If you want to stop, we can. I got some business to conduct a little ways from here, but I won’t be too long. Maybe a few hours. You’ll be alright until then, right? There ain’t nothing out here other than horses. I seen a mustang run around here a few days ago, I think his herd might be grazing here until they move on.”

Albert brightened at the words. “A _mustang_! Magnificent breed, very good, very good, I will set up right away and await your return. If I manage to get some shots in on my own, I will be most excited, though,” here he paused and looked over at Arthur. “I would enjoy your help with it.”

Arthur nodded. “And you’ll get it, I promise. I just got an errand to do.”

Distracted by setting up his equipment, Albert waved at him from the side in a short farewell. “Yes, yes, just return so we can continue this. Remember, I _do_ want drinks in Valentine when this is all said and done.” He looked over his camera at Arthur with an almost stern look.

Arthur grunted and whistled a short loud whistle to call Bruce over. The horse responded immediately. The two had a strong bond by now, weeks of travel together cementing their knowledge into how the other thought and moved. Arthur knew how Bruce would respond to almost any situation, and had mostly trained the horse to not be too spooked by nearby predators. The horse trusted him now, and a light touch and a gentle nudge was usually all the man needed to get the horse to move.

He pulled himself into the saddle, adjusting the stirrups before giving a soft click and flick of the reins. He put Bruce into a light canter. He needed time to think and camp wasn’t terribly far away. Ever since Dutch had led them down off the mountain pass there had been faint doubts growing in his mind. Dutch’s behavior was...unsettling to say the least.

Arthur had basically been raised by the man. He had been taken in as a young man, no family to speak of. His real father certainly wasn’t one he liked to hold in a reverent position. He could still remember the nights of no food, the man coming home drunk, fists clenched and his mother trying to protect Arthur. But Arthur had grown up strong, and once his mother died, he made it out. He ran the streets until Dutch found him.

Despite his past with Dutch, Arthur knew the past twenty years hadn’t been kind on either of them. Job after job, robbery and the risk of capture--it wore on a man after a while. And Arthur worried that the strain was becoming too much for Dutch.

Horseshoe Overlook came into view, the familiar excitement of heading in the direction of home washing over him. He had been out for a while now and was eager to say hello to the people he considered family.

“Who’s there!” The sharp, grating sound of Micah’s voice yelled out as Arthur passed the line of trees.

Well, he considered _almost_ everyone family. Micah had been running with them for about six months now. Ever since he had shown up, Arthur had an uneasy and instant dislike for his ways. Distrust was expected at the beginning, hell, almost required due to their line of work, but Micah had never been able to get past that small feeling in Arthur’s gut that something just wasn’t quite right. He was vocal about it to Dutch, who merely had waved off his constant protests.

“It’s just me!” He called out, not bothering to say hello.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in, about time you showed--” Micah’s voice got out of range as he continued, and Arthur smirked to himself knowing he was probably insulted by the fact that he had continued towards the camp without verification.

 _Fuck him_ , Arthur thought to himself. He had to _tolerate_ him, not _like_ him. He hitched Bruce to the temporary posts they had erected just outside of the line of tents. He unhooked the bag full of smoked meat he had collected, as well as the pelts from the wolves. Pearson would be pleased.

He dropped the items off at the cook’s area before heading directly to Dutch’s tent, nodding and greeting folks as he went along. It felt like home. It was nice. This was a good area, and although he knew it wouldn’t last forever, he did know he could enjoy it while it lasted.

“Arthur!” Dutch’s voice called out cheerily to him as he approached the man’s tent.

“Dutch,” Arthur nodded, going directly to the contribution box. He tugged out twenty dollars, tucking it into the box carefully.

“That’s what I like to see, son, a good solid contributions to our funds,” Dutch said, sliding up next to Arthur and placing a hand on his shoulder. He gave a few firm pats, then motioned for him to follow. The two men walked into his tent, Dutch sitting down on a chair, inviting Arthur to sit in the empty one next to him.

“Well, what can you tell me? Where have you been, it’s been a number of days since we’ve seen you here.” Dutch took out an apple and started to peel it carefully, the skin of the apple staying in one long coiled piece as he took the skin off. He was delicate with his knife skills, no wasted fruit stuck to the skin.

“I been exploring out near Saint Denis,” Arthur leaned back in the chair, pulling his hat off and running a hand through his swept back fade. He rolled up his sleeves, stretching his legs out in front of him and crossing them at the ankles. “There’s some interesting stuff happening out there that we may have to investigate at some point, but nothing too major. Currently I’ve got a...side project going that I have to get back to in a couple hours.”

“Side project?” Dutch glanced up from the apple curiously. “A hit on a town or house?”

Arthur shook his head, biting his lower lip briefly. “No, I...met a photographer. I’m protecting him as he goes out and finds wildlife to take pictures of. He don’t know the first thing about living or surviving out in the wild.”

Dutch stayed silent a moment, clearly thinking. “I see. And, has he...does he know about who you are?”

“No, he don’t know nothin’, I made sure of it. Had a bit of an encounter with some O’Driscoll boys last night, but nothing to write home about. Had to kill one, let the other go. He was shaken, but alright.”

“Well, you know I don’t dictate what you do in your own time, long as you are helping out the camp meanwhile,” Dutch nodded, holding up the perfectly peeled apple and cutting out a slice, offering one to Arthur.

He took the slice and popped it into his mouth. “I know, Dutch. But…” here he hesitated. “There’s somethin’ about him. I guess I...like the taste of something a bit normal I can look forward too nowedays. All this fightin’ and killin’...leaves a bad taste in my mouth sometimes.”

“Something about him?” Dutch leaned forward, pointing at Arthur with the small paring knife. “Son…” the silence stretched uncomfortably, Arthur shifting in his seat before Dutch continued. “This man is he, anything else?” Dutch stopped, clearly unable to continue his line of question.

Arthur didn’t say anything, a small shrug his only answer. Dutch had often shown discomfort for Arthur’s aversion to women. Not so much aversion as it was...no interest. He didn’t _hate_ women. They just really didn’t do much for him and thus he never really got around to settling. There was one instance with a woman that happened a long time ago...but he had been very drunk and very young.

Dutch had never come out and asked him if he was interested in men. It wasn’t something you talked about. Certainly wasn’t something folks accepted. Arthur kept to himself, didn’t harm anyone and didn’t draw attention to it. He wasn’t even sure what to do with a man. He had never really gotten the opportunity to be with anyone in that capacity. It wasn’t something you asked.

He was comfortable in his masculinity. Arthur wasn’t effeminate by any means, a rough and tumble guy in his own right. Maybe that was really why Dutch had never asked. Arthur knew he suspected, but had never pushed it any further. It wasn’t for him to really ask about. He knew Dutch respected him as a man and as his right hand in a fight. Arthur could be trusted to hell and back.

“I’m just gonna get a couple changes of clothing. I gotta leave some of my clothes with Mrs. Grimshaw. I had a bit of a mess on ‘em. Got most of the blood out, but a good wash with some soap, and those girls always get stuff cleaned like they just been bought.” A change of subject was needed desperately.

“Sounds good, son,” Dutch nodded, but ignored the small talk bait. “I just want you to be careful out there. Don’t get hurt and come back to us in one piece. I got a plan to get us out of here. Just need a bit more money. So, just warning you, you understand.”

“I will be careful,” Arthur smiled. “I promise.” It would take a lot for him to separate from his family. Even as he said the words, though, that small, tiny voice in the back of his head was growing more and more distinct. Dutch’s plan, the money, jobs. He worried for John Marston and his family. The girls. Hell, even the new guy Keiran he had taken a liking to faster than Micah.

He would have to think on this, long and hard. He would be able to clear his head with Albert. Photography he had fun with.

“I promise,” he said again before standing and heading towards his tent.

Out of the chest at the foot of his bed he got some fresh clothes, leaving his dirty ones for Mrs. Grimshaw. She was the driving force behind the camp next to Dutch. She spoke her mind and spoke it often. He liked to usually just stay out of her way. She always knew what she was doing, and didn't hesitate to do what needed to be done when the time came. She had taken one look at Kieran after he had joined and found him a job and taught him exactl what to do in only half a day.

His eye caught the sight of two pieces of paper placed in his trunk. They hadn't been here before. He reached in to take them out, glancing at the return address on the one that was a letter before sitting on his cot briefly. It was from a professor he had met while wandering the plains. She was in search of specific types of bones, and it felt like a wild goose chase. Until he had found one. He had immediately sent off the coordinates to her, hoping for some sort of spectacular reward. Nothing yet, it appeared, and he was miffed slightly.

The other piece of mail was a receipt of a package that he had to pick up in Valentine. He frowned slightly. He hadn't ordered a package. He would have to check when he and Albert went into town. Speaking of Albert...Arthur looked at the sky to get the time. He needed to get back to Albert soon. Who knows how the man was getting along without him?


	5. False Hopes

Albert was all set up with his camera and gave him a little wave as Arthur approached. Once again, that familiar feeling came back to him, a feeling of just being in the presence of someone he was comfortable with. He was excited to talk with Albert, learn things from him, just generally be near him. He didn’t expect anything to come of it, but he could enjoy the time he had at the very least.

“Arthur, come see!” Albert motioned to him and pointed out across the landscape in front of them. Arthur came closer, looking off and squinting slightly. He could see the black mustang with a few other horses, and he pulled out his binoculars to get a closer look.

“Yep,” he said after a moment of study. “That’s the one.”

“ _Magnificent_ creature. You have a natural gift of picking a subject, I have to say,” Albert said with much excitement. “Now, while the light is still good, perhaps you can…” he gave a little motion in the air with two hands as though he were pushing something. “...give him a little nudge in this direction?”

“Shouldn’t be a problem,” Arthur said, nodding. He swung back up on Bruce, adjusting his hat by pulling it a bit further onto his head so it wouldn’t fall off as easily. “Just watch me, Mr. Mason. I’ll have that beast run right past. I bet you’ll get a good shot of him.” He grinned down at him before shooting off with Bruce.

He steered Bruce in a wide arc towards the mustang. The black creature noticed him coming, the head of the horse going up from the ground in an alert stance. A warning whinny sounded from him as Arthur came closer. As they rounded behind the small herd, the mustang shot off, and they followed behind.

Arthur let out a whoop towards the herd, causing them to speed up. He carefully monitored distance and angle towards Albert, ensuring he wouldn’t cause any harm or damage to the equipment. Eyes carefully studied the ground as well, watching for any holes or sharp drop offs that would cause Bruce to stumble or startle.

“Come on, Albert! You got this!” He yelled out as they got closer, and as the herd ran past, the mustang leading the way, a large puff of smoke erupted from the flash lamp he held in one hand. A victorious gesture came from Albert, signaling that he had gotten the photo, and he veered off from the horses to go back to the area.

He heard Albert’s laughter as he rode closer, a joyous and giddy sound. “Mr. Morgan, that was incredible! The way you handled that herd--you must have some farming experience in there somewhere!”

Arthur laughed and gave a small shrug as he dismounted Bruce. “Well, I’ve got a little experience with horses and herding. Nothin’ to write home about, but it does come in handy from time to time.”

He walked over to the setup, studying the camera carefully. “This is a fine piece of equipment. You’ll have to show me how to set it up and give me a few tips for my own camera.” Arthur shifted the small camera bag that was slung over his shoulder and offered it to Albert.

The other man turned it over in his hands a few times. “It’s older, but it’s in very good condition. Perhaps I can see some of the photos you’ve taken with it?” He looked up with a hopeful look.

Arthur was pretty sure he would be unable to resist anything Albert asked him to do if he continued to look like that. He cleared his throat, feeling heat work up his neck as he busied himself putting the items away on Bruce. “Sure, I wouldn’t mind that. I don’t know if my photos are gonna be half as impressive as what that doohickey can produce,” he waved towards Albert’s camera, “but I surely do enjoy the hobby.”

Over the next hour or so, Albert showed him every facet of the camera, how to set it up properly and how to even work the flash. Arthur thoroughly enjoyed himself, Albert’s guiding hands and way of speech patient with him.

“Of course, you really don’t want your face too close to the flash lamp, I’ve had far too many incidents where I’ve singed my eyebrows clean off my face!” Albert laughed. “For weeks I got the strangest looks from people in town.”

“Sounds like good advice,” Arthur gave a simple nod, the idea of Albert with no eyebrows an amusing thought. He looked up at the sky, noting the shadows starting to get longer. “Well, we should probably head on in to Valentine. Should be a pretty sunset though, we’ll get the best part of it on the way there.”

Albert had no objections, the pair clearing up the area and setting off over the hill towards the small town. Pinks and purples along with the fiery gold and red of the sun setting sailed across the sky as they traveled. Clouds reflected rays, the fluffy look of it reminding Arthur of a few paintings he had seen. The view was incredible. This was what Arthur loved the most. Being out on the open plain, nothing but a good strong steed under you and the promise of adventure.

He glanced over at Albert, who also appeared to be enjoying the sight. Being with someone who was easy to talk to also helped. He realized he was probably getting in too deep over his head with Albert. There was some chastising of his own actions internally. Albert had no interest other than being friends. And even then, the photographer had to go home eventually. Arthur wouldn’t be able to follow, and he couldn’t ask him to stay.

Arthur realized with a sudden shock as they rode into Valentine that he admired Albert. Truly admired him, in the sense that he wanted to know all about him. Wanted to learn where he came from, his goals in life and whether or not he enjoyed the land out here. As they passed the post office, he remembered the package that had come in, but decided it could wait until morning. He and Albert were both ready to sit back and relax at the saloon.

Inside, the piano was playing its normal jaunty music. A few men were gathered around a poker table with intense expressions on their faces, and off in the corner a rousing cheer went up as the end of a drinking competition came to an end as a patron slid off their chair with a thud onto the floor. Arthur didn’t hesitate, heading towards a table. Albert followed close behind, seemingly nervous at the loud cheering, eyes flitting from place to place.

“Calm down, Albert,” Arthur tried to reassure him. “Ain’t nothin’ gonna bite you in here. Now, what you want to drink, and do you want some food? I’m starved. They got some...okay tasting oatmeal here, but I do recommend the chicken dish.”

Albert nodded, settling in his chair. They were situated more in a corner, out of the way of any main traffic. Arthur hoped this would alleviate any issues in case a fight broke out or someone recognized him.

“Chicken and beer then. Sounds divine right now, I’m rather hungry myself,” Albert sighed, reaching for his wallet.

Arthur held up a hand. “It’s on me tonight. Don’t worry about payin’.”

“Well, thank you, Arthur,” Albert smiled and nodded.

Arthur turned to the bar, ordering the food while pointing to the table they were seated at, tossing an extra few cents in as a thank you. He was in a good mood tonight. He figured because of Albert, but it was nice to just be in a good mood. He hadn’t had a chance to really let loose with anyone other than Lenny. He winced briefly at the memory of that night. He would need to watch his intake tonight, he certainly didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of Albert.

He snagged the two beers from the counter after opening them and headed back to the table. He set the drinks down with a sigh of content at finally being able to sit in a chair after standing out in the field for a long while. “There ain’t nothin’ like a good beer at the end of a good day,” he lifted his drink in a cheer, Albert following suit.

“Quite so,” the other man stated before taking a long swig of the beer, setting it back down with a thump and a gasp. Albert leaned foward, looking at Arthur with a curious gaze. “Now, how about these photos of yours?”

Arthur paused, hesitating slightly as he took out the journal he kept in his satchel. Between the pages were various photos he had been rather proud of. He handed the small amount to Albert, who took them carefully.

The first photo was of a deer. A full grown buck, the antlers were framed between two trees. It was slightly out of focus, but Arthur remembered the emotions from that night. It had been the first night out of the mountains. He had taken a walk away from camp to try and compose his thoughts for his journal when he saw the deer. It seemed to stare right at him. It didn’t startle even when Arthur grew closer, and he had taken the opportunity to snag the shot.

“Wonderful composition. Focusing is difficult, but with practice I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it,” Albert stated, flipping to the next photo.

The next one was a photo that Arthur didn’t usually show people, but at Albert’s smile that came over his face, Arthur knew the decision for the shot was a good idea. It depicted him and Bruce. Lacking a tripod or remote way of setting off the camera, he had held it, pointing backwards at him and the horse. Bruce was nearly blocking him out of the frame, the large nose of the horse curious, and had gone to sniff the camera at the last second he had taken the shot. Arthur had laughed when he got the photo back, and kept it.

The rest of the photos were of the mountains. Cold and uninviting as they were, they drew Arthur to them. Mysteries were up there, waiting to be discovered, and Arthur was determined to find them.

“These are quite good, Mr. Morgan,” Albert said with an almost surprised tone.

“Well, you should see all the photos I rejected,” Arthur said with a sheepish expression. He swept his finger through his hair with nervousness, a mannerism he had picked up when unsure of what to say.

“Well, I am most impressed,” Albert said seriously. “I think you have a lot of potential at photography, especially with what I saw today. You should think about maybe working for the newspaper--they can always use someone who knows their way around cameras.”

Arthur shrugged. “I don’t know about all that, now. I just like the idea that I can capture a moment forever on a piece of paper. It’s really odd when you think about it. Kinda like looking into the past,” he said softly, putting the photos away after one more look at the one with the large, imposing mountain. As he did so, their plates were plopped in front of them by a woman. She leaned over a bit towards the two of them, her hands going up to Arthur’s shoulders.

“Can I get you anything else, boys?” Her tone was sweet, but underlined with intent.

Arthur grew uncomfortable at the touch, but resisted pulling away. “No thank you, ma’am, I think we are alright. Thank you for bringing us the food.”

“No trouble at all,” she said, her fingers sliding across Arthur’s shoulders as she walked away. He relaxed a bit more as she disappeared into the small clusters of folk scattered here and there.

“The women certainly have a way around here, eh?” Albert said with a small smile.

“They certainly do,” Arthur sighed, digging into his meal.

The two men ate in silence for a few minutes, Arthur sneaking glances at Albert every now and then. Albert was looking out, people watching as Arthur usually did as well. It was a pastime that he enjoyed at larger cities, especially Saint Denis. Folks did some strange things if you watched them long enough.

“They got lodgings here at the hotel if you want to do that. I’m gonna be camping just outside of town if you want to meet up for breakfast in the morning,” Arthur finally broke the silence between them.

“Oh, I see,” Albert thought to himself. “Well, I didn’t mind camping, not with you really. It’s rather frustrating on my own, and I have to say there’s a certain...excitement about being under the stars.” He smiled at Arthur. “If you don’t mind, I can join you around your campfire again tonight. Plus, it will save me money, which in this day and age is rather important.”

Arthur tried to quell the happiness he felt when Albert had said he wanted to join him camping. He tried not to look too eager as he nodded. “Very well, then. I can set up camp and then come and get you. Sound alright?”

“Fine with me,” Albert shot him a grin.

Arthur finished up his food, motioning to the bartender for another beer. He could hold his alcohol well, but too many would make him start to feel a little fuzzy. “In the meantime, let’s just enjoy ourselves here.”

“Ah, yes, in the wise words of the good book, let us eat, drink and be merry!” Albert cheered. Arthur raised his bottle in kind and took a large gulp from it.

Tonight would be a good night. Their luck had held and nothing appeared out of place in the small town of Valentine.

Until suddenly, the sound of a nearby explosion caused all sound and activity to cease in the saloon. 


	6. Torn

There was a moment of confusion from Arthur. _Explosion? What?_

And then screaming could be heard. Shouts of warnings and exclamations could be heard, even within the saloon. Arthur threw down his fork, rushing past the slack-jawed patrons of the bar, bursting out into the street and looking around. It didn’t take him long to see the orange glow of flames.

“It’s the post office!” He heard someone yell out.

“Out of the way!”

Hoofbeats were heard, and Arthur got out of the way just in time to see a wagon race past, a few men in the back. Valentine didn’t have a fire service, not like in Saint Denis, but they did have a few volunteers that helped out when the time arose. They had bags filled with sand loaded up and at the ready, and there were already a line of folks forming from the horse troughs and water pumps.

Arthur felt a hand on his sleeve and he was suddenly pulled by Albert. “Come on, we must help where we can!”

He was shoved into a line, and buckets were being passed between everyone at a quick speed. Sweat started to form, and the surrounding area of the post office was wet down to try and avoid the fire spreading through the town. With the buildings so close together, if one went off, the rest were sure to follow. It was good the post office, which doubled as the train station, was apart from everything else.

“What the hell happened?” Arthur called out to someone. He wasn’t able to get a response, because in the din of noise, Arthur heard his name shouted, and he looked up to see Dutch and Hosea ride up. Dutch hopped down from The Count, his white horse, slinging the reins over to Hosea who took both horses to the side away from the main action.

“Dutch!” Arthur motioned to another person to take his place as the man got closer.

Arthur moved forward, tugging Dutch to the side away from most of the people. He leaned in, eyes hard, looking at the man he saw as a father figure for most of his life. “Dutch, you didn’t have anything to do with this, did you? There ain’t nothin’ at the post office to steal!”

Dutch seemed hurt by the insinuation. “You really think my plan includes torching the local small town’s post office? Really, Arthur, I thought you were smarter than that.”

"What are you doing in town then?” Arthur asked. He turned to look at the large amount of people who were battling the flames. The efforts were slowly starting to come together and the flames were dimming, until finally, with a few well aimed buckets of sand and water, they were out. Arthur saw Albert through the haze, lantern light having a hard time getting through the smoke that had settled on this part of the town. Albert was looking around, a worried expression on his face.

“I was here to just get a drink at the bar with Hosea. I do believe we are allowed out of the camp once in a while? You’ve been _galavanting_ around with--” he stopped as Albert spotted them through the haze.

“Arthur! I’m glad you’re alright!” Albert glanced at Dutch standing next to him, reaching out a hand in a friendly greeting. “Did you see that? I wonder what happened. It sounded like an explosion--perhaps some errant dynamite in shipment? Would be most unfortunate, though. Can’t imagine the price of repairs.”

“I rode up after the fire had started, so I’m afraid I missed the beginning,” Dutch stated. “I must get going though,” he shot a glance at Arthur in a clear message. They would talk about this later. “Good luck with the cleanup, gentlemen.” Dutch motioned to Hosea who was standing near the horses.

Arthur didn’t want to leave with their conversation gone sour. He held up a finger to Albert. “Give me a moment, would you?” He followed Dutch to the horses, the man looking rather annoyed.

“Dutch, come on now, do you think it was O’Driscolls?” Arthur asked as Dutch mounted up on his horse. He put a hand up on the horse’s neck, giving it a good pat. Dutch took the reins, looking down at Arthur with a sigh.

“Probably. Colm is persistent.” Dutch leaned forward in the saddle a bit, gripping the horn as he adjusted his seating. “Just keep an eye out for him and be careful. If he’s behind this, he’s might be around. I suggest you get out of town for a bit--he knows who you are.”

Colm did know who he was. Arthur was worried about that. He gave Dutch a nod and looked over at Hosea, who hung back as Dutch spurred the horse forward.

“You alright, son?” Hosea asked.

Arthur nodded. “Yeah, thanks Hosea. Just...keep an eye on Dutch, if Colm is around here, he’s gonna be looking for him.”

“I will,” Hosea said, glancing over at Albert who was waiting by the saloon. “Friend?”

“Yeah,” Arthur stepped back from Hosea’s horse. “Albert Mason, he’s a photographer. Teaching me a few things about my camera.”

“That’s nice then,” Hosea smiled. “Well, I guess we’ll see you at camp in a few days? Lenny’s been asking about you. Something about a hit he wants to do.”

“Tell him it’ll be a few days, but I’ll make my way there.” He waved off Hosea before crossing the street to join Albert.

“Friends of yours?” Albert asked as he watched the two ride off.

“Something like that,” Arthur said. He took out his pocket watch to check the time. “I think we should get out of here. It’s getting a bit late and it’ll take a minute to find a spot to camp. I don’t think it’s going to rain, though, doesn’t smell like rain.”

“But the post office, they may need some help,” Albert pointed to the building. It was still smoking, people checking the structure for anyone who may have been inside.

“We can’t really help, and it looks like they’ve got things covered,” Arthur started to walk over to Bruce, who was hitched up outside of the saloon along with Alberts horse. “It’s dark, too. There ain’t much that really can be done tonight. Plus, I’m hearing some rumors that I ain’t too comfortable with. I’m thinking that was caused by the O’Driscolls.”

“Oh, that rather sour bunch that go around and block the roads?” Albert questioned as he ensured his equipment was all secure before swinging into his own saddle. “I’m afraid I’ve had the displeasure of meeting them on the road. They required a tax to let me pass! I’ve never had to pay a tax for any road before! And then, when I came back that way they were gone.” He huffed a moment as they headed out of a town. “I think it’s all a great big scam. I complained to the sheriff, I did, but of course nothing came of it.”

“The two men from the other night were O’Driscolls. They aren’t exactly ones to shy away from indiscriminate robbing and killin’. Not sure what they have to gain by blowing up the post office, but I don’t think the sheriff is too interested in keepin’ the peace, at least if it involves him getting out of that building of his. He’d just rather send his deputies, if that. Or bounty hunters. Not that I’m complaining, I have brought in a few folk for him, and it does make money.”

“A bounty hunter!” Albert raised his eyebrows in surprise. “I knew you were one to live off the land so to speak, but I didn’t think you would be one to do that. Have you been in many gunfights with a sordid outlaw?” He brought his horse closer to Arthur so they wouldn’t have to shout. They were at a comfortable trot, finally crossing the town line into the wilderness.

Arthur let out a small chuckle. “Well, I’ve been in shootouts before, yeah. Just recently got Joshua Brown for Strawberry. Found him up in an old mine. He actually got the drop on me, probably saw me coming up, it was a pretty good vantage point he was in. Brought him in alive, though.”

“Well, it was clear from your actions the other night that you knew how to handle yourself.” Albert smiled. “You seem to have a knack for saving me.”

“Well, I dunno about all that,” Arthur said, embarrassed slightly by the praise. “I just don’t like to see folks hurt that don’t deserve it.”

They rode in silence then, the night air feeling cool and crisp. A fire would feel good in this weather, and finally, Arthur saw a small field that would work well. He spurred Bruce into a faster trot before pulling back on the reins to slow him down when he reached the area. He sat on the horse, using the height to his advantage, looking around carefully. He didn’t see any other fires or signs. They were still close enough to Horseshoe Overlook that if anything went wrong he could get help, but still far enough away that he shouldn’t run into anyone.

“Here should be good. Off the main road and not a particularly well traveled area.” Arthur dismounted, starting to set up the equipment. Albert joined in, gathering logs and sticks for the fire from the nearby treeline. Soon enough they had a merry fire going and bedrolls laid out.

Arthur took out his journal and pencil, starting a sketch. He looked up at Albert who was fussing over his camera, cleaning parts of it. Arthur started to see the man’s face in his sketch, and he added details, even trying to draw his strange flat hat from memory. He had a nice face, especially his eyes. They were kind, full of spark and adventure. Arthur started to write by the firelight, both men caught up in their own activity around the fire.

_I find myself in a unique position. In one hand, I hold a future that might prove fascinating. Hosea mentioned things to me about starting over. I wasn’t really sure what he meant by that, but now I think I do. I think, that given the chance, I like the idea of going with Albert to study photography. But in the other hand I’ve got my family. Dutch, John, little Jack. Jack needs someone to look after him. I can’t in good conscious leave them behind._

_Albert is a man I want to know more. These few days I’ve traveled with him have given me insight to a life that I know I’ll never be able to have. I need to go back home, go back to the life I deserve. I’m not a good man. Albert deserves someone like him, someone he can care for. I’m not going to kid myself._

Arthur closed the journal and latched it. He would enjoy the time he had with Albert while it lasted. The man had mentioned how eventually he would be heading back. Back with his photos and back to his life.

“Well, I’m gonna turn in,” Arthur laid back on the bedroll, looking up at the stars, the warmth from the fire making him sleepy.

Albert looked up, nodding. “Would you like me to keep watch and then wake you up?”

“That’s fine,” Arthur glanced over. “Just wake me up when you get tired.” He closed his eyes, asleep in moments, worn out from the day.

He didn’t notice Albert continuing to look at him from across the fire.


End file.
